#sub!vox

The concept of sleepy Vox, subconsciously being submissive towards his trusted partner just because he doesn’t have his normal ‘big, in-charge, boss” persona on in the most intimate moments of the morning. So now he’s sleepily rutting into your thigh, whimpering soft “mommy”’s. He’s soooooo tired and out of it he can only think of how warm and comfortable you are, and how tight and damp his boxers are beginning to feel.

His letting out one continuous, wavering whine as he fucks himself against your leg but, dammit he’s just too tired so he can’t keep up. And still—despite the brain fog he can find it in him to go “‘mmh, thank you mama..” when you guide his hips for him. Almost as if it takes genuine restraint to be a brat, rather than these unmasked, unregulated moments in the morning where he is yours completely. It begs the question: just how much of Voxs sexual mannerisms were forced for the sake of further compensation of his ego? This felt like honesty, while other moments felt like performance.

But his grip on your shoulders tightening and loosening as he fades in and out of consciousness, whining softly “mommy, mommy, mmh— mommy—“ it’s clear that this is Vox at his most raw. “Such a sweet boy for mommy,” you would say, drowsily. And he whimpers as you help him ride your leg. You think he keeps trying to say things — not anything specific just pleas and overall neediness, but he’s so exhausted and fucked out he can’t get any words past the barrier of his foggy brain.

and when he finally comes he falls right back asleep on you, pulling himself into your chest further, probably wedging the top of his screen uncomfortably under his neck but he doesn’t care. He just wants his nice, warm, safe, mommy to hold him for the rest of the early morning.

And yet, here he is, tied up, red ribbon rope circling his torso and binding his arms tightly to the headboard, unable to do anything but throw back his head back and take whatever you give. You're not even touching him anywhere, ah- ordinarily intimate, see. That's the worst part. Maybe if it were you toying with his cock or teasing at his nipples, he'd somewhat understand his own reaction.

But you're not doing that. No, this weakness of his you're so dead set on exploiting is his and most likely his alone: A panel of wires easily accessible just by unscrewing a little panel on his lower back. This one is special, see, not like all the others. It doesn't control bodily functions or electrical pulses or what not. It's, ahem- sensitive...

Put bluntly, it controls everything sex-related. Genetalia (interchangeable, courtesy of this body's functions... for some reason!), how horny he gets, how good he feels, and, most importantly—

How easily he cums.

And you have turned that function off altogether for this night. It was so, so easy to let his typical, steadfast control slip—You whispered sweet nothings in his ear, said you'd make it so good, and he just let himself slip away, barely even registering as the rope coiled around his arms.

You're evil, he thinks, just as you pull on one particular wire, and a spike of pleasure shoots through him with a full body shudder. Closer, and closer, until—

Damnit. The restriction's still on.

"Fuck- haah-" he grits out. "Fuck you."

"Now that's not very nice," you murmur. He's about to retort when you pull at that wire again, harder this time, and his thoughts go blank.

Vox can barely identify the ensuing broken moan as his own.

And then- then you dip your finger underneath and fiddle with the wires, and he's getting closer, closer and closer again, the fire building up in his core and-

It stops just as it starts, that damned wire still unplugged. Or was it- crossed? Did you like, hold it or something? Vox doesn't remember anymore. All he can think of is how badly he wants to come.

"Come on, just let me cum," he mutters, body unwittingly humping the air for more friction as if that'll help—except the extra stimulation without release only makes things worse, keeping him teetering on the edge for longer. "Do you want money or some shit?"

You laugh, before shaking your head.

"Beg," you say. Vox blinks.

Did- Did he hear that right? You want him to beg? Him, Vox, controller of all of hell's television and technology, one of the strongest overlords in hell—to beg?

"I don't be-e-eg—" he starts, words buzzing out into glitchy static as you toy around with a wire. "Ah, fuck, keep doing that-"

And then it stops, just as he hits the edge, again. Vox has lost count by now of how many times this has happened. The sound that escapes him teeters the edge between a whine and a moan.

You beam down at him.

"You wanna cum?" You say. Vox would've replied—Of course I wanna cum, no fucking shit, asshole—but right now, he's too drugged up on ecstacy and desperation to do anything but nod rapidly. "Why don't you ask for it?"

"I'm not going to beg," he reiterates. You smile.

"Not yet," you say, ever so patient and serene. Before Vox can try and ask what exactly that's supposed to mean, your hand is on the wires again, playing and pulling with more speed and skill than every before, and, and-

And the wire gets plugged back in, and he can cum now, closer, closer-

But then, right at the edge, your hand pulls away, leaving him denied again.

"Fuhuhuck!" He groans, before finally, finally murmuring out a whiny- "Plea-a-ase-"

You make a show of contemplating, humming to yourself, before finally, finally giving him reprieve!

"Of course!" You say. A click ensues and his sensitivity is turned all the way up, before the heat in his core returns, stronger and stronger and closer and closer—

In a flash of hot white, he cums, mind going blank and shudders coursing through his body. Vox trembles, riding out the orgasm as you continue your ministrations.

Except you're still going. It's too much now, a cup overfilled. He's already sensitive from the previous orgasm and—

White flares up again, another one taking him by storm shortly after the one he just had. With heavy pants, he barely manages to stammer out a semi-coherent "Wha...?"

You snicker.

"I said I'd let you cum," you say. "Not that I'd stop afterwards."

A shudder courses through him, this time, not just because of your merciless fiddling.

But if Valentino releases new porno videos just a little too similar to how the fanfic goes, well, how coincidental.

They all read fanfics. The filthier the better. Do they commission? Abso-fucking-lutely.

How coindental it is that Val makes sure that the lead actor him is gotta be so fucking hot and cool and sexy and handsome and did I mention macho? And the female co-actor you is gonna be as close to you in the fanfic.

One wrong move from either of them is enough for Val to throw a fit of the century.

Val's tastes in fanfics vary from one to another and in all fonts and types. But he loves the fics where you punish him the most. Where the reader is helpless to your torture. Where you get physical and mean.

‌He can't help it, really. The way you get mean in those fics? Where you don't really give him a choice and just fuck the absolute shit out of him? How you just don't give a damn? Fuck him, shit gets him so hard.

Velvette releases a fetish collection that's disguised as a collaboration of sorts with Valentino but it's all based from fics that she loves and wants to see that shit in HD on the runway.

Reading somewhere about you wearing a long satin dress with lace trimmings and artfully ruined and teared in the right places?? Yeah, she's borrowing that.

Vel can't really help herself sometimes. When she's designing with her mannequins and she thinks of you and how you must feel underneath her finger tips? She can just feel the whine bubbling up her throat. She needs you so, so, so badly.

She reads and reads and reads and rips the authors apart if she thinks their canon is shit and doesn't into the personality she thinks you have. She praises the ones that fit into her ideas. All from a dummy account.

Vox?? Oh Vox. He's got it so bad. He reads fanfics that he gets so fucking hard. Loves loves loves the sub!reader tags. Needs it in his veins.

When the tower is quiet and Vox is finally left to do nothing. He quietly pulls his tablet and starts going to town. He'll read about how you choke 'him' and he runs his hands up and down his chest and grips his throat lightly. He can feel himself swallow and heartbeat just pick up a little.

Reads that you pump his cock ever so slowly while whispering filth into his ears? Fuck, he can't whisper shit into his own ears but he can tease himself to the point where his hips fuck into the air. Desperate. Sensitive. Pliant.

Sometimes. Sometimes. They're so tempted to create a bot in your glory to fuck and be fucked by them.

They want it so badly sometimes that they can just cry about about it but they don't think they can share "you" like that.

once vox is in subspace, he really is a mess- drooling, moaning, whimpering, clawing at the sheets, and most obviously, crying

to most people this would give the impression that he wants to stop, but in reality, vox very very rarely uses the safeword but fuuuck it is SUCH a turn on for him that the opportunity is there

we all know he has a power kink, and he's so obviously in a submissive position during sex, but the fact that you're the one allowing him to stop if he needs to? it gets to his head

it also opens the door to his humiliation kink, bc nothing turns him on more than being humiliated. the fact that he could so, so easily quit, just walk out and be out of the embarrassing, submissive position he's in but instead he finds himself wanting to be wrecked- more than wrecked, downright ruined by you when he could so easily walk away. the entire situation is exhilarating and arousing to him

he also adores it when you use it mockingly, if you start cooing "aww, poor baby, do y'need to tap out already? gonna use the safeword sweetie?" he's already babbling, pleading with you to keep going, how he's being suuuuch a good boy! and then? well, he's rambling on and on about how he can't stop yet, how he needs to cum! how could you deny him?

vox takes punishments well, but will brat out the whole time, whimpering and whining about how he can't take it. however, the second you threaten to stop, or offer the safeword? he's putty in your hands, drooling and clawing at the sheets, practically begging you to keep going. its the quickest way to get him to completely submit to you without even another word!

vox isn't used to relinquishing control in general, so the power dynamics proposed by the safeword honestly make him trust you even more. even outside of the bedroom, it flusters him when you ask before touching him or when you ask about sex instead of just initiating.

when it comes to softer sex, vox also likes to be reminded of the safeword! sometimes he's just so stressed out that he just wants to be pampered, but he reaches a point where his mind gets so fuzzy he just can't stop :( he's mewling and whining as you ride him, tears streaming down his screen as you praise him, and he doesn't realize how far gone he is until you gently remind him he can tap out whenever he needs to. vox will nod, eyes watery and face flushed, and soon he becomes more aware of just how sleepy he is. he always makes sure you both cum one more time before tapping out, but i can also see him having a bit of a somnophilia kink, so he would probably consent to letting you fuck him in his sleep, with the promise of the safeword still being valid

i mentioned this before in the dry humping hcs, but sometimes, vox will get so needy and horny that he just can't stop, so the reminder of the safeword is often very useful when he's too far gone to communicate but is like 2 seconds away from passing out. but sometimes he likes to be pushed to the edge too, so he won't always use the safeword but gets off on the fact that the option is there

also tiny additional hc, i think he would like to use a meaningful word for a safeword. maybe something related to technology, like radio or something, or possibly electric. like if he started saying electric, it would mean he wanted to stop. or i think he would use a color system, you would ask him what color and he'd say red green or yellow depending on how into it he is or how he's feeling etc etc. either way he wants it to be meaningful and not just some random word- like he wants a sentimental reasoning behind whatever word you choose (feel free to comment safeword ideas so i can use them in future fics 👹)

vox lets out a wanton moan, glitching and panting as he humps your thigh like a dog in heat. he's writhing under your touch, unsure of where to put his hands when all he can focus on is the pressure against his painfully hard cock. its sinful the way he drags his hips, mewling deliriously as he creams in his pants for what feels like the hundreth time, and yet his pace doesn't falter as he ruts against you. he's a panting mess and barely coherent and he babbles, whimpering your name over and over. "fuc- zzz -k, 'm so- ple-zzz-" vox gasps, thighs shaking as you wrap your arms around his neck. his cock throbs when you make eye contact with him and his thighs squeeze around yours. a stain darkens the front of his pants, leftover from his previous release in his dazed rut. "vox," you coo, rubbing the ports on the back of his screen as he struggles to remain coherent enough to focus on your words. "vox, baby, do you need the safeword?" your voice is sickeningly sweet, laced with concern and lust.

vox paused at the thought, dread seeping into his body as he let out a pathetic whine. "nno, 'm fine," he slurred, rolling his hips against your thigh. "m not even tired," he mewls deliriously, and you nod, taking notice of his drooping eyelids and slowing movements. "okay sweetie, only one more round though, okay?" vox nods, tears streaming down his screen as his claws dig into the plush of your hips. you steady him, and you move your leg, assisting him in grinding against you as you shake your thigh. vox whimpers, static lacing his voice as he glitches out entirely. repeating your name like a prayer, his body tenses as he cums fast and hard, soaking his pants yet again. vox collapses against you, breathing ragged as he struggled to keep his eyelids from drooping. "you okay, baby?" you purr, and he nods, slumping deeper into your touch. "lets get you cleaned up, hm?"